Class (un)distinction – SoCS June 18/16

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“Due to overcrowding on this train, I am pleased to let all passengers know that the First Class compartments have now been declassified.”

Oh, the oft-repeated lament of the conductor on my commuter train services. It seems to be a permanent fixture of late. There’s an ongoing dispute between the crew and operating company and who comes off the worst? Of course, the passengers. Cancelled trains over and over and over again.

But then, this statement got me to thinking. No matter how often claims are made that we live in a classless society, it can’t possibly be true. Here in the UK we are staring down the barrel of the Brexit gun, with our in/out of the EU referendum taking place next week. The tone of the campaigning has made me feel very uncomfortable, to say the least, with many, many arguments focussing on very thinly disguised racism, on the part of the Leave campaign. We are not an isolationist nation (I don’t think), but that’s how the Leave campaign appear, wishing to pull up the drawbridge between here and mainland Europe, looking down on the policies and nationalities of our neighbours from a very ill-drawn and shaky high horse.

I grew up in Birmingham in the 1970s. Most of my friends were second generation immigrants – Sikh, Hindu, Muslim, Afro-Carribean. I loved the fact that our school nativity play was as multi-racial as I imagine Jerusalem would have been back then. I learned so much from my friends, our neighbours, the shopkeepers about different cultures. Yes, there were disagreements, no, it wasn’t all easy-going, but it worked.

On Thursday (yesterday as I write this) a female Labour MP was murdered in her Yorkshire constituency of Batley and Spen. She was a shining example of a good person (from what I have read), someone who believed that we all had far more in common as human beings than differences. She was passionate about humanity, about looking after people. She strongly believed that we are better off as part of the EU than outside it.

I don’t tend to write so bluntly about politics, about racism, about isolationism on this blog.  But I am terribly worried about the direction the UK is taking, about the direction many other countries are taking, about the polarisation of views, about the insistence that there is no need to understand the ‘other’, because the ‘other’ can’t possibly be right, shouldn’t be listened to. Shouting loudest (something that seems to be the vast part of our politics these days) is not the way to understand, is not the way to deal with differences.

Compassion. We all have the capacity for it. Where has it gone?


Here is my early-bird entry into the lovely Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday, where we are invited to write using the word ‘class’ as our prompt.

This was truly a stream of consciousness. Feelings in the UK are ugly right now, with the Brexit referendum right round the corner. It hurts. I don’t like much of what I am hearing.

Please do feel free to read – even better, take part. You never know where it might take you!

 

Jazz Man and Views (Reverb) – dVerse MTB

brother believe in your silver-spangled skill-set

stand on the shore, survey the scene

let your guitar sing, reverberate those rhythms

play it again boy, play it with ease

 

brother believe in your power and your glory

step all aboard, anchors set free

dive into those oceans, manipulate that music

play it all night boy, play with the breeze

 

brother believe, bring back your tall tales

return to the harbour, head held high

hold fast to the memories, they’ll last you a lifetime

play with your youth boy, play and believe.


 

I’ll be honest, this is an old poem I posted back in 2013. I’ll be more honest – I’m a little empty on the inspiration front  with regards to thinking about a subject matter AND meter tonight. Sometimes it happens, right?

Anyway, I wanted to take part in the dVerse fun (and on the right day!), so here it is. My brother has just come back from another stint working as a guitarist on a cruise ship, so this is a little welcome home for him.

I also read this out at a poetry slam a couple of years ago – nerve-wracking though it was, I had such fun, and the audience were fabulous.

For those of you who have stumbled across my blog, if you want to read and even take part in dVerse Meeting the Bar, do head on over to the website. We’re a friendly, welcoming crowd and there’s always something good going on.

Thank you to Victoria for hosting tonight!

Sinistra Dextra – dVerse Poetics

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I ache to press my fingers into her flesh,

insert them under her skin and grab

fistfuls of the yellow fat cells pulsating beneath.

My nerve-endings tingle with anticipation –

I imagine blood, sinews and cartilage slithering over my hands.

Some call her voluptuous

She has been labelled curvaceous in her time –

her complexion has been admired,

compliments have been made about her chestnut hair

and how it gleams like conkers in the autumn sun.

Most people skirt around that single-syllabled utterance – fat.

It is as if the very word itself is a crime,

as if it should be expunged from the dictionary.

I do not criticise,

do not imagine barbs where none exist.

No, I rejoice in her size,

after all, I am an artist,

an admirer of the human form in all its variations.

My only sorrow is, that in common with them all,

she cannot be moulded.

She is not clay.

I am saddened that she too, will not outlive my attentions.

Perhaps, in the future, there will be such a survivor.

All I want is for each of them to be a little bit better than they already are.

Is that too much too ask?


 

Tonight on dVerse Poetics, Lillian is inviting us to write with a sculpture, or sculptor in mind. Have a conversation with your sculpture, give us your back story, turn and turn again, tell the story from whatever angle you choose, be the sculpture coming to life or the model being used as inspiration. What a wonderful idea, Lillian!

Hmm… my sculptor is a little (a lot!) sinister. I don’t know where he came from, all I know is, I wouldn’t want to be one of his models!

I hope you enjoy (if you can bear it!). I’m sure other entries will be much more light-hearted than mine, so please, do head on over to the dVerse pub, ask the friendly barkeep to pour you a cold one, and get reading (and why not take part?)!